


The Moon We're Watching

by fizzyblogic (phizzle)



Category: All-American Rejects
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-11
Updated: 2007-08-11
Packaged: 2017-10-07 20:29:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/68945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phizzle/pseuds/fizzyblogic





	The Moon We're Watching

This is a stupid idea. This is a very, very stupid idea.

They're drunk, but that isn't _unusual_, because they play bars and unscrupulous men buy him drinks when he bats his eyelashes and grins at them, and hey, when he puts it like that, maybe that's something to puzzle out, but – but this, this doesn't usually happen.

Nick's pretty much usually sprawled out next to him when they do this. It's one of those balmy summer nights and there's just enough of a breeze that no part of his clothes are sticking to him (except where he spilled a little of the beer Nick stole from his dad, but that doesn't count) and they're lying out on a blanket in a field, Nick's car nearby, the stars above them, a bottle or two resting comfortably by their sides. All of it perfectly normal, right up until the point where he'd slid his fingers over to wind them around Nick's, and then slowly pressed his mouth to Nick's jaw, whispering, "Nick, Nick, Nicky, can I –" And now, this, _this_, with Nick nodding and letting him lean in, this has to be the stupidest idea Tyson has ever had. Because he's kissing Nick, he's _kissing Nick_, and shifting closer to him, and this is bad, this is stupid, this is going to only end up with awkward silences and laughing it off and "Man, we were drunk," and Tyson doesn't think he can take that. He's always thought he could, thought if he could just get Nick drunk enough, thought if there was just enough easy flirtation, subtle touching, thought if he could just get Nick happy and _drunk_ then maybe something would happen, maybe he could kiss him, and it'd be okay because he'd get to laugh it off and "Man, we were drunk!" it away, but he'd at least have kissed him once.

But, Tyson is finding, it doesn't work like that. And this is a stupid idea, and that one time he'd tried in all the years he's had this stupid fucking _idiotic_ crush on Nick, he'd chickened out, he'd gone so far with the drinks and the looks but he just couldn't do it, couldn't be like that _to order_, couldn't just – he couldn't _manipulate_ Nick like that, and once he'd thought that word, 'manipulation', the shock of it had sobered him up and he's never even attempted anything since then, never –

But. But now he is _kissing Nick_ and it just doesn't work like that, the laughing it off, he couldn't laugh this off, not now, not when he knows what it feels like when Nick's mouth moves under his, not knowing Nick must have heard the tiny sound he makes in his throat. He's moving closer, and – and.

And Nick is kissing him back.

It's probably just a reflexive thing, because when you're being enthusiastically kissed by someone you don't find inherently repulsive, maybe you just sort of go with the flow, or maybe it's the alcohol and Nick's just _happy_ and when he's in that sort of a mood he usually goes along with anything Tyson says, unquestioning, faithful, ready for it all. Maybe it's just that spirit of adventure they seem to create when they're alone together, but whatever it is, it's not enough to stop Tyson rolling closer and he knows, he knows this is _beyond_ a stupid idea when he feels his erection brush against Nick's thigh and two millionths of a second later he knows Nick felt it because Nick is yanking back and hissing, "Ty, fuck," and Tyson's life is very probably over.

_Laugh it off joke it off do fucking something, don't let him know don't let him know._ "Fuck, Nick, I – shit." _Oh fuck._

Nick seems suddenly very, very sober, and Tyson certainly feels that way too, and maybe if he shuts his eyes it'll turn out to just be a very weird dream and he can wake up.

He can't see anything with his eyes closed, but he hears the rustle of Nick leaning closer again, and he knows this is it. The game is fucking up, and in one dismal second he sees it stretch in front of him – Nick would be understanding, he'd be careful not to stop hugging him in case it got weird, but it would feel _forced_ and that would almost be worse than if Nick got mad, but he wouldn't, because Nick is the best person Tyson has ever known and he'll have to watch Nick fall in love and one day he'll be Nick's best man (because Nick would ask, he just would) and have to stand there, stand _right there_, while Nick gets married and he'd be Uncle Ty to the kids and one day Nick's six-year-old daughter would ask, because kids, they always just look _through you_ like Bailey sometimes does, and this kid would ask "Uncle Ty, why aren't you married?" and he'd have to stop himself answering "Because your daddy didn't want to" – and back in the present, Nick is saying his name and fuck, here it comes.

"Ty," Nick whispers again, and Tyson still doesn't open his eyes. Then suddenly, Nick's mouth is there again, kissing him gently, and maybe it's a ploy to get his eyes open, but Tyson doesn't care because it works but Nick doesn't stop kissing him.

"Nick," he exhales, without meaning to. It says a lot more than he intends, so much packed into that one syllable, and he winces. Nick notices.

"Ty," he whispers again, only this time there's a hitch in it, and Tyson feels his heart sink into his shoes and, no, _pity_ would be worse than understanding, but before he can move away, Nick is stamping a line of kisses over his jaw.

"What," Tyson starts to say, really not sure where he's going with the question or even what it is, but Nick is moving down to kiss lightly in a line along his neck and he's – he's stopping, Tyson realises, every few kisses, as if he just wants to inhale next to Tyson's skin. "Nick?" he asks, then. His heart stirs up to his ankles, cautious.

"Oh fuck, Ty," Nick breathes, and that is definitely – that is something, right there. His heart makes its way past his knees, crawling slowly.

"Nicky?" Tyson asks again, stroking fingertips down Nick's arm and feeling him exhale shakily.

Nick takes his hand, cups their palms together, curls their fingers over and around, and Tyson's heart ricochets past his chest, past his throat, and bounces around his temples for a bit before jumping back into its usual position, thumping hard.

"Nick, are you – what are you –"

Nick swallows. Tyson watches his throat as he does so, and leans in to lick, briefly, at the skin. Nick whimpers out a soft sound, and then he's moving their hands, moving them down past his waist, and when he presses Tyson's palm against his crotch, Tyson hisses.

Nick's hard. Nick is harder probably than Tyson is, even, and for a moment they just lie like that. Both of them are shaking now.

"That's what you're doing to me," Nick breathes, hitches in it, "right now. That's what you _always_ do to me, Ty," and Tyson thinks of all the times they've lain out looking at the stars and talking, all the times they've been on crappy little stages in dingy shithole bars playing their songs, all the times their thighs have aligned when they're sitting close on the couch just watching a movie, and he thinks of all that time and Nick getting hard, Nick watching him, Nick being _turned on_ by him, and Tyson is sure for a minute that he is going to come, right fucking now, right in his pants.

He tries to make words form, but all that comes out is, "Hhnnnuhhhn." Nick breathes hard, like he's trying not to pant.

"Is that a – uh." Nick clears his throat. "Is that a good hnnnuhh, or a bad hnnuhh?"

In answer, Tyson presses his crotch to Nick's hip.

"Oh," Nick says, though it's more like a moan than a word. "Ty, can we – can – can you –"

"Anything," Tyson manages, almost shocked at how desperate he sounds. Nick's eyes slide closed.

"Fuck, you're gonna make me – _fuck_." Tyson's hand moves; he cups Nick through his jeans, and the weight of it, the shape and weight of Nick's penis – _fuck, Nick's penis_ – is almost exactly right for Tyson to wrap his fingers around. He does his best, despite the clothes, and squeezes gently. "Ty, seriously, if you don't want me to mess my fucking pants, stop that _now_."

Tyson groans, pressing against Nick's hip, not really thinking about if it'll bruise, knowing he'll feel guilty later if it does. "Maybe I want that," he pants, rocking his hips slightly. He rubs just a little with his hand, feeling Nick arch slightly. "God, Nick –" And he thinks about it, for one fleeting second he thinks about bringing Nick off without even touching his skin; he thinks about _Nick coming in his hand_ and he can't stop the orgasm that yanks out of him. He doesn't even realise for a minute that the low voice cursing and moaning Nick's name is his own.

"Holy _fuck_, Ty," Nick groans, and then Tyson's fumbling quickly with Nick's pants, yanking the zip down, getting his hand in, and even though he's just come, the feel of Nick's cock against his palm stirs arousal somewhere at the base of his spine. He strokes, firmly, and it only takes one for Nick to come, whispering "fuckfuckfuck_TyohfuckTy_fuckfuck_Ty_" over and over.

Tyson watches, his thoughts an incoherent string of profanities and nothing more, as Nick settles back and opens his eyes and smiles at him.

"Fucking fuck," Nick murmurs, and Tyson nods agreement. He leans down and kisses him, hand stilled but he doesn't want to take it away, doesn't ever want to stop touching Nick.

"What noises will you make," Tyson hears himself say, the words just slipping out without bothering to consult his now rather sluggish brain, "when I go down on you?"

Nick groans and rolls closer, until their hips fit snugly together. Tyson is going to need to change his underwear very soon. "Shit," Nick exhales, and kisses him; it doesn't answer his question, but Tyson figures he'll find out in time.

Somewhere off to the left, he hears a cicada, but – like the rest of the world right now, with Nick lying next to him kissing him like they're drowning – Tyson ignores it.


End file.
